Harry Potter and the Dark Secret
by snapemartyr
Summary: The Boy-Who-Lived has always had fate on his side. Even if it be in hidden nooks or crannies, luck has always had a leaf in Harry's outcome. In life however, such is not always so realistic... what would happen if luck was tested one time too many? - ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

"Harry Potter?

"No way!"

"Did you see him?"

"Yeah, I saw."

"Which way?"

Are you sure?"

"I told you, I _saw_!"

"Harry Bloody Potter's in the school!"

Hidden behind the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw in the Ravenclaw Tower, Harry Potter put his head down in his hands and groaned. 'How could everything have gone so horribly wrong?' he wondered. The night before, he, Hermione and Ron had planned everything to a tee. Because Grimmauld Place was compromised ever since that fiasco at the Ministry, Hermione's knowledge of a remote muggle area had led them to the Forest of Dean, where they had abided safely for the better part of a month with the help of many magical protective wards. Here, as with Slytherin's locket, the group had spent most of their time devising the perfect stratagem for their excursion into Hogwarts, which seemed the most logical destination next on the list according to Harry, who knew not where the other Horcruxes resided. They had drawn a map sketching the most secret passageways up to Ravenclaw Tower where though Harry wasn't sure, he thought they may acquire some clue as to the diadem of Ravenclaw's whereabouts. Of course, not the entire foursome would go there (which included Luna Lovegood who had been with the group ever since Malfoy Manor) but merely Harry and of course Luna, who was a Ravenclaw and therefore knew the way around. Ron and Hermione had been sent to find the ghost of Rowena Ravenclaw in the unlikely event that she would be willing to grace them with any information. But that was where it had all gone wrong.

Harry and Luna had used the invisibility cloak for concealment whilst leaving Ron and Hermione with the latter's remarkable ability to perform disillusionment charms. Harry did not realize until later that great wisdom would have been shown in supplying the group's pair that was taking the more secret and unexplored passageways with anything that was more foolproof than an invisibility cloak. Though Harry did have the Marauder's Map with him as well as a copy of the one they had sketched which displayed naught but their distinct route, some of the off paths they were taking were as yet unchartered. Thus, traveling down one of the passageways which was dank and so dark that they could hardly see through the gloom, it was no surprise when Harry and Luna figured out that the corridor had been bewitched, and they lost the cloak as they battled the live, predatory bats attacking the, and ensuing Devil's Snare behind them (into which the floor was quickly turning) for their lives. When they reached the end of the corridor, they ran the rest of the way up the Tower following their own instincts as they had lost both maps as well as the cloak. And of course, in spite of the fact that they ran as fast as they could (still being pursued by flying bats) and tried to stick still to the deserted corridors, the yells of 'Harry Potter!' on every side of them and hurried footsteps behind them told Harry too plainly that they were seen.

Harry felt a stir from beside him. He glanced up to see Luna serenely observing the statue, running her hand along the edges as if willing it to reveal some of its unknown secrets. He stood up shakily.

"Luna we really should- "

"Shhh." She put a finger up to her lips to shush him. She had an expression on her face of utter bemusement, as though astonished that by simply looking at the statue they couldn't acquire exactly what they need to. After a few more minutes of this seemingly ridiculous spectacle and once Harry's breathing finally began to slow he felt himself growing impatient.

"Luna we really need to go back and find- " But before he could finish his sentence the click of the door behind him caused him to halt. Without a second thought, he pushed Luna further behind the statue and forced her into a crouching position as he himself knelt beside her, waiting. He searched frantically around his range of vision for the source of the noise, but oddly enough, the deserted Ravenclaw Common Room they had entered remained deserted. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well I don't know what that was all about but we should really- " Yet again however, for the third time that night his words were censored, though this time not through any obvious interruption. Confused, Harry tried to glance over at Luna only to find that he could not make his body comply with the command. And then he understood. He had been petrified. Only one person he knew could have manipulated them with such stealth, and as Harry looked up at the body that was materializing slowly from underneath his own invisibility cloak, fury began pumping through every vein and vessel in his body, obliterating every coherent thought. His feelings were outmatched only by the visage of the man who glared down at him with loathing etched into every line and feature of his face- Severus Snape.


	2. Chapter 2

Snape's face was contorted with a worse fury than he had displayed in Harry's fifth year, when Harry had 'accidentally' slipped into his pensieve. Though his eyes glinted, his face was paler than normal, and he shook slightly. Even as blinding rage inundated him Harry couldn't help but feel a small trace of apprehension as he looked at him. 'How could this have turned into such a mess?' he wondered vaguely even though it was a moot point. Snape pointed his wand at Harry and released the curse.

"You," he hissed, his tone deadly. He flicked his wand at Luna. "You. Come. With. Me. Now." Harry's urge to attack him moments before dissipated, though his veins still tingled with cold-blooded fury. He glanced at Luna and quietly nodded. They had no choice.

The two of them followed Snape to the door and nearly ran into him when he turned rapidly on his heel and flicked his wand so quickly upon both of them that they hardly saw the movement- only felt a familiar tingling sensation of cold ice trickling through their bodies as the disillusionment charm was performed. Saying nothing, he beckoned them forward ominously.

He travelled so quickly through the corridor that they would have fell behind had he not had his wand tip pressed into their backs. He wove through hallways and small passages until Harry felt they were covering a labyrinth of unchartered territory as he no longer recognized their surroundings. The more foreign the pathways became, the more Snape slowed their pace, until Harry and Luna were finally able to walk without panting. The corridors became dank and dark, and he was sure Snape was leading them through the dungeons, though he couldnt be positive. In spite of himself, Harry couldn't help but feel honest surprise at the extent of the man's knowledge about the castle, and found himself wondering wryly what his father and his friends would have said if they knew how woefully incompetent their map really was. His musings were cut short however by the sound of a dungeon door opening.

"Inside," Snape hissed.

Harry and Luna were shoved over the threshold roughly, finding themselves in a room very much akin to Snape's own office. The décor consisted primarily of a wide spectrum of different potion ingredients and jars containing all manner of slimy things. At the end of the room was situated a short desk, which looked as though it would tolerate nothing larger than a very scrawny teenager. A stack of papers and quill was pushed off to the side as though someone had shoved them hastily aside in a last minute act of spontaneity. Harry wondered vaguely if this desk was ever utilized by Snape and found the thought inexplicably funny, and the inadvertent urge to grin spreading across his features. The thought was quickly suppressed however, as the object of this thoughts crossed his direct line of vision and shoved him roughly into a hard seat.

At the sudden touch, Harry felt his former rage return. He made no attempt to calm it as the rage pooled over his features, causing his hands to shake. Thoughts of Dumbledore, and all the events of last year pooled over him, until he felt that he was boiling in them in the middle of a large pot, and the most he could do at the moment was put his head in his hands to keep himself from doing anything drastic. Only thoughts of his friends kept his anger temporarily in check, and kept him from trying to throttle Snape where he stood. After they were safe, he thought wryly, well, he really couldn't care less what happened to him.

Snape was moving around the room briskly, doing complicated movements with his wand as he flicked it at various sections along the walls. Harry noticed that he even charmed the windows, though they were painted closed and bars were placed across them. He looked over at Luna who had been forced into the seat beside him and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged, unperturbed, then went back to watching the scene with quiet interest.

After about ten minutes in which Snape seemed to have exhausted a store of energy sufficient enough to make Harry wonder exactly how much he had within him, and he had calmed down enough to realize they were not going to be immediately attacked by Death Eaters, Snape turned back around to face him. His cold, unfathomable black eyes bored into Harry, completely disregarding Luna at his side.

"Mr. Potter," he said in a low, deadly voice, "I don't suppose you are aware, of exactly the extent of the damage you have done?" Harry jutted his chin out, his anger and experiences of late making him braver than was his wont. Snape had charmed the room sufficiently, he knew, and nothing he could say or do now was going to make much difference.

"Yes _sir_."

"Yes," Snape repeated blankly. Then without warning, he thrust himself in front of Harry's chair, gripping the armrests on both sides so tightly that his knuckles grew white. "Yes. Then you are aware are you, that you could have led- probably, in fact, have led, every single one of the Dark Lord's followers into Hogwarts single-handedly? I did not think even you, Potter, could possibly be so thick." Every one of Snape's words was laced with pure venom. The look he gave him would have had any other student quaking in their boots. His face was whiter than Harry had ever seen it, his teeth were bared, his lips were shaking, and if looks could kill he surely would have been dead right then. Oddly enough, all Harry felt at his words was shock, dismay, and confusion.

"Sir," piped up Luna for the first time from the other side of him, "You really should learn to control your temper. It's magically proven that it could lead to Sordid Wizard's Death." It was such a Luna-like thing to say in this situation that Harry might have laughed had there not been every possibility that Snape's words were true. The effect was lost on Snape, however.

"Well Potter? Are you going to grace me with an answer or shall I rally up the forces?" Harry shifted in his seat. He was now a chasm of turmoil and confusion.

"I- I really didn't think… " Harry trailed off weakly. Even if Snape was on their side there was no way in the world he would tell him about the Horcruxes. After waiting impatiently a moment, Snape snarled.

"Pathetic. I might have known. Tell me where the others are then, so I can go and try to rescue them from the consequences of your unfathomably stupid actions Potter." Harry hesitated, wondering whether he should tell him. Snape had given them no premise with which to trust him so far, and Harry had every reason to believe that his actions were probably a ruse to hand them over to the Dark Forces. Yet still, a small voice in the back of his mind made him unable to deny the fact that Snape hadn't handed them over, and that he was lending an awful lot of concern to his friends when Lord Voldemort probably didn't need them. Before one of these thoughts could triumph, however, he was again rescued by Luna.

"They could be anywhere, sir. They are looking for the ghost of Rowena Ravenclaw because we thought she might give us some information about the diadem." Harry almost kicked her.

"Excellent Mrs. Lovegood," Snape sneered. He stared down at Harry. "I suppose we are lucky that we have her, Potter, because, witless though she may be, had the situation been left up to your miserable brain cells, doubtless we all would have been members of the Dark Lord's Inferei at this point." Harry was about to retort, but as Snape wordlessly swept away from them, he suddenly found he didn't have the heart to. At the door he paused, his back still turned to them, and said ominously, "If either of you move I shall know it." The door then closed under a myriad of clankings and groanings from the weight of all the protective barriers placed upon it. 'Fat chance,' Harry thought wryly.

After about ten minutes in which Harry tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach and Luna's half attempts at conversation about nothing consequential, they heard the door open again quietly. Harry looked up to see two forms of- well, nothing- being propelled over the threshold by the tip of Snape's wand. Two flicks of the wand cured that illusion, and Ron and Hermione ran forward to meet them.

"Oh Harry we were so worried . . . " she said breathlessly, hugging him tightly.

"It's okay, Hermione . . . " Harry wanted desperately to ask if they had discovered anything about the diadem, but at the sound of Snape's quiet footsteps the scene was abruptly halted, and they were each forced apart by a spell, each of them made to sit in a chair in front of Snape. He looked coldly down at them for a few moments, his expression unreadable. His black eyes were glinting and his face was pale, though Harry was less sure it was due to anger than something else he couldn't describe.

"The Dark Lord's followers have been unable to penetrate the school," he began, "or the more correct phrase would be they have voluntarily chosen not to." There was silence for a moment.

"He doesn't want them to?" Harry blurted. "But then doesn't that mean- "

"Yes, Potter," Snape spat. "That does indeed mean that the Dark Lord is aware you are here, and that he has voluntarily opted not to send his followers. He has opted, instead- " his eyes narrowed, "for me to retain guardianship."

"You retain guardianship over Harry?" Ron said aghast.

"Would you rather the Dark Lord retain guardianship Weasely?" Snape sneered.

"But professor," Hermione pleaded. "Surely you could do something. You work for him. Surely you could c-convince him . . . " Harry stared at her bewildered. Why on Earth was she placing her faith in the man who had murdered Albus Dumbledore in cold blood?

"Any chance I would have had at 'doing anything' Mrs. Granger, was sufficiently snatched the moment you four entered the school," Snape waved a hand dismissively.

"But- " Hermione said weakly. She bit her lip, looking as though she were trying not to cry. Snape completely ignored her. He turned back toward Harry. His cold black eyes bored into him for a moment. Then he said, quite expressionlessly,

"The Dark Lord and his followers will be back within the week. Until then, I suggest you prepare."

With that, he turned smartly on his heel. When he reached the end of the room he paused, and turned back around to face them. He sneered, then, with a quick flick of his wrist caused all four of their wands to come spinning towards him. He caught them deftly, and, with another flick, charmed the door's barriers back into place. The myriad of churnings and groanings left a deadened silence in its wake.

Harry turned his back on the others. His feelings of anger had long since dissipated, and were being replaced slowly by the burning feeling of guilt. The feeling was sharpened, moreover, by the scene in front of him when he looked over his shoulder and saw that Hermione was sobbing quietly, clinging weakly to Ron for support. He looked over at Luna and saw that she was standing off to the side, silently watching with something on her face that looked like quiet understanding. Feeling miserable, he went over to a corner and sat down by himself. This situation was his fault, and he knew it. He knew he would have gone to get the diadem of Ravenclaw anyway, but why did they have to come with him? They insisted, he thought bitterly. 'I asked them not to come, but they insisted on coming anyway. It's not like they weren't aware of the dangers. If only they hadn't forced it . . . " But it was a moot point.

He looked around the room keenly for the first time and noticed the many potion ingredients lining the walls. What better place to think about their current situation, he thought dryly, than in a secret room no one knew about but Snape? He laughed bitterly to himself. At least they had plenty of time to think about the situation.


	3. Chapter 3

Three hours later found Harry and his friends in much the same state. While Hermione's normal level of brilliancy had returned, and she searched the walls with quiet interest for a potion ingredient that might benefit their situation, Luna and Ron quietly watching, Harry sat in the selfsame corner, attempting to tune out the world. He sat looking at nothing in particular, but merely contemplated his fingers, as if hours of this intense scrutiny would somehow bring them out of this disaster. Every once in awhile he would hear Hermione exclaim, or hear a derisive snort from Ron as though wanting to draw him into the conversation, to which he would answer through the further examining of his hands. He simply couldn't bring himself to face them. While he knew it was wrong for him to sit there and sulk, the guilt he felt for what he had done to others and sins placed upon his shoulders was simply too much to bear. So he did the only thing he knew how- tried to ignore it.

After what seemed like several hours, though could have only been several minutes as their world here was timeless, he heard the others break the silence. Though he remained dormant, his face impassive and head pulled downward as though by dummy's strings he found it impossible to tune out the others entirely. Their voices wound their way through his thoughts like fire on wood, burning down his carefully built, wooden house.

"I've tried every ingredient and while some of them could be potentially helpful, none of them can be brewed without proper ingredients," Hermione said, her voice laced with frustration.

"So . . . " Ron cleared his throat. "Er- what do we do now?" Harry could feel their eyes upon him. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it. 'Please," he thought, 'please, please . . . ' He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find Hermione looking at him.

"Harry," she said gently, "Would you come and sit with us for a few minutes?" Harry just shrugged. He didn't want to sit. In fact, he wanted to forget that he or his friends had ever existed, though with Hermione's hand on his shoulder it became increasingly difficult to live the illusion. He contented himself with staring at the wall moodily. Hermione bit her lip. "Please Harry," she said, almost pleadingly. Harry looked into her face and, seeing the anguish there relented. He sighed, realizing she had broken through his carefully constructed façade. He gave her a weak smile.

"Sure 'mione." Without really realizing what he was doing, as he was still beneath the surface of his cool laboriously built mask that was hiding the furnace within, Harry allowed himself to be led over to the others.

When he sat down on the hard floor amidst the tight circle the group had formed he realized that Ron wasn't there. He looked up and saw him standing off to the side looking slightly ashen faced.

"Ron?" Harry questioned. When Ron didn't answer, he asked slightly more loudly, "Hey, mate, you alright?" Ron gave his head a quick jerk, and then, as if just realizing what he had been doing, quickly sat down, looking distinctly disgruntled for some reason Harry couldn't fathom.

"Fine," he muttered. Harry and Hermione continued to stare at him with perplexed looks, but Luna broke the silence.

"He has to go to the bathroom," she said matter-of-factly. Harry stared at her. Ron's ears went red as he spluttered,

"How did you- I- that's not- "

"Well of course it is," Luna said rather impatiently. "We've been in this room seventeen hours. A normal person doesn't maintain their bladder longer than fifteen." Harry gaped at her. Had it really been that long? While he had sat in the corner life had seemed timeless, but now she mentioned it he realized the implications . . . well, that was an awful long time to ignore your body's needs. He looked over at Hermione and saw that she looked pained.

"Ron- " she began comfortingly, "I'm sure Snape wouldn't- " As if on cue, and before Harry could further chastise himself for getting his friends into this, the door clanged open. Snape swept into the room, and, stopping shortly in front of them, said coldly,

"You may now attend all of your basic needs. Shortly thereafter, dinner will be served." Dinner? Harry thought wonderingly. He had no time to ponder it however, for a moment later, a door materialized in front of him, and thoughts of Mother Nature quickly made him forget everything else. When they were finished Snape levitated four trays in front of them, and, with some hesitation, though not being able to ignore the pangs of their stomachs any longer they sat down and began eating.

Dinner was a quiet affair. The four of them ate ravenously, not venturing to speak not only out of hunger- seeing as how none of them had eaten in more than forty-eight hours- but because Snape's presence behind them made it seem impossible. Harry attacked his with quiet vigor, having not realized until then how hungry he really was, and in result he barely noticed what he was eating. The thought crossed him that the food may have been poison, but he dismissed it as the needs of his stomach won over reason. Though the meal was nothing special, and contained only the barest essentials, when he was finished he felt fuller than he had in days, as it had been that long since he had eaten anything even halfway decent.

When it became clear everyone had finished, Snape again banished the setting. He turned to leave, the group watching him in uncertain silence. At the door he paused however, and turned back around looking as though he were having second thoughts about something. After about a minute, he scowled and, flicking his wand, caused four mats to appear at the end of the long room. Then, ignoring their confused stares, he shut the door swiftly, the movement playing to the usual tune of loud clankings.

Harry looked around at his friends. Ron's look of confusion mirrored his own but Hermione seemed slightly angry. He glanced over at Luna and saw that she had sat down on one of the mats. Harry glared down at his hands.

"Oi do you think Snape's gone bonkers or something?" asked Ron. No one answered him. Harry was thinking hard, trying to figure out what had generated Snape's actions. He was startled when Hermione suddenly snapped,

"Oh honestly, don't you see? How can you two really be so thick?" Ron, who, Harry noticed, seemed to be more on edge lately that was usual for him (though considering the circumstances he really couldn't blame him) retorted angrily,

"Well as we're obviously too dumb to, why don't you enlighten us?"

"Well what do you think all this- " she waved her hand silently, indicating the mats and enchanted bathroom, "means?" she asked them. Harry and Ron looked at each other. Something in Harry's brain slowly began to click. "Obviously he's keeping us here because the school isn't safe," she continued. "My guess is he only wants to keep you, Harry, because it's you that's going to be facing Voldemort eventually. When the Death Eaters leave he's going to find a way to separate us, because it's putting the rest of us in unnecessary danger, and because, well, I imagine he sees us as extra hassle."

"But then- " Harry said, "then you're saying- "

"Oh for Merlin's _sake_ Harry you're not going to tell me that after all this you _still_ don't think Snape's on our side?" she asked with such a disbelieving note in her voice that Harry felt extremely stupid. Seeing the look on his face, she softened. "Harry, I'm sorry," she said, this time in a gentler tone, "but I really think it's time you acknowledged you were wrong about Snape- "

"He killed Dumbledore!"

"I know that," Hermione bit her lip. "And I'll admit I don't understand that part either, but I still think there's more to it. Why would he go through the trouble of capturing all of us if he wasn't really trying to help us? Voldemort only needed you. It wouldn't make sense for him to go through all that work unless he was working for someone besides Voldemort." At that bit Harry was silent. He had to admit she had a good point.

"I think he was working on Dumbledore's orders," Luna said suddenly from over on her mat. Harry stared at her bewildered. She had been silent for the last couple of minutes and he thought she had been asleep. Hermione looked thoughtful.

"You know I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were true. Didn't you say he had some sort of curse on his hand last year Harry?"

"Yeah . . . but he never told me about it. Every time I asked he put if off saying it would make a great story someday or some nonsense like that."

"Hmm . . . and he never told you what cursed it?"

"No, he never told me anything."

"Describe to me exactly how his hand looked." Harry did.

"It's definitely some sort of dark curse," Hermione said after an eventual silence. "And all of those have the potential to be deadly. While I can't be sure without knowing the exact cause, it's very possible that Dumbledore was already dying when Snape cast the killing curse on him."

"Which means that Snape killed him on Dumblefdore's orders," Luna added matter-of-factly. Hermione gave her a strained little jerk of her head.

"Possibly," she conceded. "In any case it wouldn't surprise me if he was working under somebody's orders other than his own. After all it would have been a great way to work his way more securely into Voldemort's stronghold, a foolproof way to prove himself assuming he really is a spy for the Order." While Harry was still trying to process everything she had said Luna quietly began to make her bed. Yawning, she said,

"Well goodnight everyone. Don't worry, Harry, I'm sure Snape will explain everything to you tomorrow." She snuggled deeply under the covers, and, within minutes, was asleep. Ron, who still looked to be in deep thought over what Hermione had said, took the mat beside her, and Hermione the one next to his. Harry settled down in the one at the end, his back turned to the others, mind still engrossed deeply in Hermione's words. His mind went over different scenarios of Snape's position until he fell into a deep, albeit slightly restless, sleep.

When Harry awoke the next morning it was dark since the room was windowless. The only indication he had that it was morning was that he needed to use the loo badly, and he felt slightly hungry. The first need being easily taken care of- as the others were not yet awake and there was no line to the enchanted room- Harry found himself on his mat staring around the room hauntingly, his stomach in knots. After thinking things over last night, Harry had inadvertently begun to take stock in Hermione's assumption that Snape was really trying to get his friends out of the way, and the implications of what that idea meant- that he would have to continue the fight against Voldemort without them. While he had advocated this for years, and had never wanted them with him in the first place, he realized now- ironically enough- that he had never given what it meant to go on without them due thought. If he was honest with himself, he doubted his abilities severely. However, his primary concern was for their safety, and if there was a way to ensure it, albeit if it came though Snape, he would take it. About that he was adamant.

Ron, Hermione, and Luna awoke soon after, and it was at this point that Snape came in, levitating four breakfast trays. They came eagerly- Snape scowled at them in disgust- none of them having yet forgotten the delicious meal of last might, so satisfying after days of scarcely living off the barest essentials. Breakfast was a repeat of last night's dinner, as everyone was still so hungry from not having eaten properly, and Snape's presence made them too nervous to speak. They wrapped it up quickly, and Snape again banished the setting. When everything was as it was, Snape levitated four chairs in front of them and forced them to sit.

Snape, still standing, crossed to the other side of the room and folded his arms squarely across his chest, observing them narrowly over his long, hooked nose. His face was a mixture of disgust and distaste, which heightened to loathing as he looked at Harry. He was dressed in his usual black robes, which made Harry wonder if he had ever changed them from last night, as it had been quite late when he had come to them. Snape let out a sharp breath that came out more like a hiss through his teeth.

"As I owe none of you and explanation," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "I will thank you to keep your uncontrollable mouths shut until I am finished speaking." There was silence for a moment as Snape glared around at them all, and Harry and his friends cast each other nervous glances.

"As there appears to be little choice in the matter however," he continued when none of them sought to interrupt, "it has become necessary for me to inform you of certain . . . details." He paused ominously, and Harry began to feel distinctly nervous.

"As the Dark Lord is unaware I have captured anyone except Potter," Snape said, "keeping the rest of you- " But the rest of Snape's words were drowned in an immediate outcry.

"You git!"

"Harry doesn't stand a chance without us, professor!"

"How do you think we came- " But Snape flicked his wand lazily, and their protests were abruptly silenced.

"Enough of this," he hissed coldly. "If you are all so bent on becoming tokens of the Dark Lord, then I will gladly inform him of this situation at the next Death Eater's meeting I attend." He then gave his wand another flick, causing Luna, Ron, and Hermione to become bound together. Thick ropes wound around them then, still thrashing madly in silent fury as they were unable to speak, they were unceremoniously lifted, and finally levitated into the beyond corridor where they disappeared from sight.

Harry stared down at his hands. In spite of Hermione's opinion about Snape, his hatred against him was like a fire waiting to be stroked, in which the smallest touch would cause the flames to multiply. The words, 'he killed Dumbledore,' reverberated over and over within him, until he forced himself to look away from the man before him, his breathing rapid. He seethed so badly that he was not even aware Snape had stepped directly in front of him, and was staring down at Harry with a sneer.

"Do calm yourself Potter as I highly doubt the Dark Lord and his followers would take kindly to you having an apoplexy before I bring you to them." Harry couldn't help it. It was as if something within him had burst, and came pouring out of him now without struggle. Upon seeing his friends handled in that way, every ounce of reason Harry had maintained until then was rendered invalid, and in spite of his promise to himself Harry felt himself crack.

"Yeah, we'll that'd suit you just fine wouldn't it?" Harry found himself saying. "You've wanted me out of the way for years, so this should be the perfect opportunity. "The famous Harry Potter finally lost his standing. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it? Me gone and out of the way? Not to mention that 'Old Voldy' will probably reward you beyond all his other servants." Harry's voice was laced with such a harsh bitterness that Harry himself hardly recognized it. His friends were out of the way, and Harry hardly felt any reason for restraint. As for Snape's reaction, it was well, in comparison to the looming advent of the Death Eaters laughable. 'Presumptuous of him to think otherwise, really,' Harry thought. After all, he was 'Harry Potter,' the Boy- Who- Lived, and he'd had to face much worse than Snape's wrath. The thought crossed him that Snape could technically do much worse than his own wrath, but he dismissed it as it interfered with his desire to rant at Snape.

Harry finally glanced up. He thought he saw a trace of something cross Snape's eyes for a brief instant- surprise?- however he was sure he had imagined it, for a moment later his face was again a mask of cold indifference. When he spoke to Harry it was in a voice that was cool and unaffected.

"Much as it pangs your pathetically overlarge head to hear it, Potter, there are others who have staked their lives in this war besides you. As some of us- " he paused to sneer down at him, and Harry felt his blood boil, "have been delegated tasks less suited to our abilities and have need of assistance unfortunately . . . " he swept around, and Harry watched after him in confusion. When he returned a moment later however, carrying a stone basin that Hermione had acknowledged as locked from one of her earlier searches, his confusion turned to frank bewilderment. Harry stared at Snape, and in spite of himself felt his heartbeat begin to quicken . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: All rights to these characters belong to J.K. Rowling, who has been gracious enough to allow me to fiddle in her pond. **

**Author's Note: **

**First off, I want to give a huge thanks to Ginnylove9990 for sending the first review my way. Your love and support is greatly appreciated! **

**Secondly, I want to thank all of you who are keeping up with this story, and let you know that every one of your opinions **_**count**_**. Whether it be a quick hello or just letting me know what you think, or even to give constructive criticism, anything you have to say means a great deal to me. The benefits of hearing your voices are untrammeled, serving not only to better the story but to provide me with much needed encouragement. Please stop in when you get a minute! **

**Third, I want to clear some things up about the story so far that may have confused some of you. This story takes place in the seventh book and while I endeavor to make the characters strictly cannon- especially in regards to Harry and Snape- events, though the first chapter indicates are parallel to those in J.K.R.'s original, will change according to my discretion, though the general plot will be followed. If something in a chapter appears unexplained however, explanation can be found in the seventh book, as I am using it as a generic guideline. **

**Fourth, this story will not be slash. I did not have room to put it in the story plot description and just want to clear that up for any of you that may be hoping. **

**Lastly, I just want to say that I am a fairly new author on this site so I ask those of you that are reading to please be patient with me as I learn to navigate it better. I don't have a surplus of time on my hands so I can only do the best I can. However as I am passionate about this story, you can be sure that I will update as much as necessary to keep the momentum going. **

**And so, without further ado . . . **

**Last Chapter****: **_**Harry looked up at Snape, and in spite of himself, felt his heartbeat begin to quicken . . . **_

"Sir?"

"Are you deaf, Potter?" Snape sneered. "I repeat, pick up your wand and face me."

"I haven't got my wand!" Harry blurted. "You took- " But Snape glared pointedly at the table, and Harry, with a start, realized that his wand had been placed there apparently when he had not been looking. He flushed red with embarrassment. He picked it up, unable to miss seeing the evil smirk Snape threw at him. He then moved over to the side a few feet, towards the shelf where Snape had placed the pensieve after removing his memories.

"Step closer, Potter." Harry reluctantly took a few steps toward Snape. "Now. I am going to attempt to break into our mind," Snape said softly. "Let us not have a repeat of your last attempt at this, which was so abysmal it places even Neville Longbottom's worst disaster in the best possible light," he said, his voice laced with a slight sneer. But at this Harry halted. He was not about to let Snape break into his mind, not after what had happened the last time, and especially not now, when Harry had no idea if he could trust him. Lifting his chin, Harry stared up at Snape.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, _sir_." Snape took a step towards him, and thrust his face right into Harry's. He snarled, snowing a wide array of yellow, crooked teeth.

"It is not up for discussion," he spat, and Harry could feel flecks of spittle fly into his face. "While it may be inconceivable to your pathetically overlarge head to possibly fathom that the world does not completely center around your miserable arse, Potter, the utter idiocy of your actions have already endangered the lives of your friends and the entire student body. Do. Not. Make matters worse through your arrogant inability to obey orders." Harry looked quickly away. Though he would never admit it to him, Snape's words stung. In spite of the movement however, he knew Snape had seen, for a moment later he threw Harry a satisfied smirk, moving back to the spot where he had stood before him.

"Stand straight and take out your wand, Potter." Slowly, and casting Snape the dirtiest look he could muster while doing so, Harry obeyed. "I am about to break into your mind," Snape said, again speaking in a soft, dangerous tone.

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Manners, Potter." Snape's eyes glinted dangerously. "Now. I want you to begin to occlude your mind. You know the routine." Snape raised his wand, and Harry, not being able to believe the luck that had brought him into this situation yet again, braced himself. "One. Two. Three. _Legilimens_!" And suddenly Snape was in Harry's mind.

Despite Harry's run-ins with Occlumency over the past few months and his knowledge that he had utilized the subject at hand as his experiences had forced it, he still found it incredibly difficult to resist against Snape's insistent tugging. Memories flashed before him like a film and Harry experienced a horrible feeling of déjà vu. Scene upon scene flew past of the recent months, until Snape finally paused in one particularly cold cemetary. '_No_,' Harry thought fiercely, '_no you're not watching that, it's private.' _Harry tried desperately to fight it, but Snape was too powerful, and before he knew it, he felt his heart sink- as the view of his parent's graves swam before him clearly . . .

_ Harry stood over the stones with Lily and James's names marked on them and read the words slowly, as though he would have only one chance to take in their meaning. There was an inscription beneath the dates, and he read this part aloud. _

_ " 'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death' . . ." A horrible thought came to him, and with it a kind of panic. "Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?" _

_ "It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," said Hermione, her voice gentle. "It means . . . you know . . . living beyond death. Living after death." _

_ But they were not living, thought Harry: They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parent's moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot and then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? _

The memory suddenly disappeared and Harry shook his head as the room around him materialized slowly. He rubbed his arms, shivering from the imagined cold, and looked anywhere but at Snape. Reliving the memory had caused an odd lump to form in his throat, as though he had really just walked away from visiting his parent's graves for the second time. He realized vaguely that this attempt had been better than his previous attempts at the subject, at least he hadn't ended up on the floor . . . though the coherent part of his mind recognized that this was because Snape had lifted the curse early.

"Feeling a bit under the weather are we Potter?" Snape sneered. Harry looked at him. Snape stared back at him, and there was an inexplicable glint in his eyes that Harry couldn't quite decipher. They held each other's gaze for a moment, and the silence in the room seemed to increase tenfold. After a pregnant pause, Snape seemed to let out a slow breath. "Let's try again shall we?" Harry nodded. Time seemed to move in slow motion as Harry tried hard to make himself emotionless, to be blank, and not to think, or feel anything . . .

"On the count of three then – " he remembered the days of silent horror, in which he was unable to think of the coming of the next day because it was too terrible – _"Legilimens!" _Harry felt the force of the probe press up against his mind. He was unaware of anything however, except for the quiet nothingness that seemed to enfold him. Vaguely he felt the power of the wards increase, but he could not, would not think about it, no. Nothing existed except the here and now. So good to feel the bliss of escape . . . if only he could stay in here forever.

He dimly registered the pull on his mind beginning to slip. As Snape retreated, Harry felt the feeling of life return, as though he were suddenly being pulled from a carefree bout of flying and forced into a harsh landing. Panting and shaking, he looked up at Snape. His look was met with an equal stare of- surprise?- Harry felt a small sense of smugness at the notion, especially since he hadn't even needed the use of his wand in the attempt. The satisfaction was short lived though, for in an instant Snape's expression was replaced by its usual cool mask of indifference.

"Well Potter- " Snape appeared to be panting and as he straightened his robes Harry noticed that his face seemed slightly paler than normal, " – that was an improvement." He looked at Harry. "Again then, Potter." This time Harry wasn't ready. As soon as the spell hit he knew it was pointless. He valiantly tried to push the force away from him, realizing from the edges of the memory that it was one he immediately recognized, knowing at the same time that it was no use, though, Snape was already in too far . . . immediately his walls began to shatter.

_"Lily, take Harry and run!" The green light filled the cramped hallway. _

_ "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

_ "Stand aside, you silly girl, stand aside, now."_

_ "No Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead- "_

_ "This is my last warning- "_

_ "Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy . . . Not Harry! Not Harry!_

_ Please- I'll do anything- "_

_ "Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" _

_ The green light flashed around the room. _

_ "Avada Kedavra!" _

Suddenly Harry found himself on the floor with no memory of having gotten there. His whole body was drenched in sweat, and he lay there for a moment, panting heavily, trying to give himself a moment for composure. He didn't know why this memory always affected him in such a way, and he was furious with himself. However, as he lay there, he realized simultaneously that most of his anger was directed at Snape himself, and rightly so, Harry thought loathingly.

It was a couple of minutes before he was able to regain his bearings. A bit curious as to why the snarky git hadn't made any derogatory comments to him, in spite of himself, he snuck a quick glance over at him. To his slight surprise, Snape was standing- no, more like _leaning_- against the wall opposite him, his arms crossed squarely over his chest. Part of his face was bathed in shadows and Harry couldn't see his expression. When he stood like this for several minutes without moving, Harry decided to break the ice.

"Er- sir?" he questioned. Jerking slightly, as though he had been unaware of Harry's presence in the room until then, Snape looked over at him. He snarled.

"We will resume this lesson later, Potter." With that, he quickly turned and swept around the room in a fine arc. Without looking back, he exited through the only door the room seemed to host, the one Harry had become so familiar with hearing. He was not disappointed as Snape did not forget to cast the proper spells upon it.

Quietly baffled, he went over to a small area in a corner and sat down. There were scarcely furnishings in the room other than the shelves, and the one cot Snape had conjured (the others had been banished as a painful reminder of his isolation) but to Harry, who had grown up living amongst the Dursleys and had dwelt in a makeshift tent for many months, the difference didn't seem too bad. He already missed Ron and Hermione terribly, but on the other hand knowing they were safe and out of the way gave him one less thing to worry about. It was one less item off his plate. '_Yes,_' he thought wryly to himself, looking around the bare place._ 'Here I could get quite used to it. Plenty of potions vials to keep me occupied, two square meals a day from Snape, not to mention the looming advent of the Death Eaters at the end of the week as an added bonus.' _Harry laughed aloud to himself. The situation was so terrible it was humorous. In reality he felt like crying.

Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. It felt achy and he knew he had a major headache coming on. Confusion and weariness threatened to overwhelm him. His mind spun with ten million questions, but he knew it would be awhile before Snape would answer him, that is _if _he would even oblige him. For now though, he didn't want to think, or feel, or do anything . . . he wondered if he should try to occlude.

The mere thought of occluding sickened him however, and he knew from bitter experience that he would just have to wait it out. He put his head in between his knees. Having his brain tugged upon for two hours had weakened him in his already fragile state and he felt a bit nauseous. 'What good would Occlumency do anyway?' he wondered. True, he had learned about it to some extent from his experiences of late, and he knew it had its purposes, but, honestly at this point what earthly good would it do?' Was Snape training him to be a muggle Spartan? Even if Snape was on their side- which Harry had serious doubts of despite Hermione's insistence- surely he knew better than anyone that Harry would be facing Voldemort in a number of days, so what really was the point? And what was he to do about the remaining Horcruxes? Harry sighed, and rubbed his head vigorously. It was going to be a long next couple of hours.

Three hours had passed before Harry again heard the locks in the door click, and during that time he had accomplished nothing except to nurse a steadily growing headache. Part of his discomfort was due to the perpetual pain he'd been having since the beginning of summer, that for which Voldemort was solely responsible. This Harry knew he could procure no remedy for, so he simply learned to deal with it, and managed to mask his pain from others by retreating into another room when it became too much. Now however, with the imminent looming of Occlumency, which he had never dealt with at the same time as being under Voldemort's influence, for the first time he felt a semblance of doubt in his abilities. He found himself incomprehensibly wondering if he should ask Snape for a reprieve, but knowing the man would only mock his request decided against it.

"Quickly Potter I do not have all day," Snape said boredly. Harry took his place in front of him, feeling distinctly miserable. Snape surveyed him for a moment through his twin greasy curtains of black hair before saying coldly, "Though you showed an insignificant amount of improvement earlier it is best that we do not proceed to wandless until you have at least mastered an elementary level, and learned not to rely on your rather convenient incidences of mere luck." Harry silently fumed. 'Mere incidences of luck?' "You may attempt to disarm me," Snape continued, "use any method you can think of to withstand my forces. Get ready now. _Legilimens!"_

Though Harry tried with all his might to maintain, he knew it was a losing battle. Scenes flashed before him, starting from his earliest memories of Dudley's torturous gang all the way up through his recent, more potent experiences over the summer. The scattered, indistinguishable images flashed through Harry's mind, until someone seemed to press a pause button and they finally stopped on the one in Godric's Hollow, where Harry was bit by Nagini. He was again back in the room in the old woman's quarters and felt a renewed surge of horror flow through him as she finally transformed, her innocent looking face being replaced by the head of Lord Voldemort's beloved pet. At the point where Hermione blasted apart the room the memory weakened, and Harry felt the tugging lessen as Snape pulled back out of Harry's mind.

Amazingly, Harry was still upright, and though he shot Snape a look of loathing- furious that he had been made to live through yet another one of his memories that had been potent enough to plague his nightmares for many months- that was the extent of the manifestation. His arms were shaking, and his face was drenched in a sheen of sweat, while in the last few minutes his headache seemed to have increased tenfold. It took all of his effort not to simply collapse on the ground where he stood.

"What part of 'you may attempt to disarm me with your wand' did you not understand Potter?" Snape snapped. But Harry barely heard him. For at that moment, Harry's head began pounding worse than it had all evening, and, knowing he was too weak to fight what was coming, he began making his way slowly to the loo.

"I'll be right back. Er- bathroom," Harry said, wincing internally at how weak his voice sounded. He saw Snape's eyes narrow suspiciously at him, but if he said anything else Harry didn't hear it, for he had made it to the small cubicle where he closed the door with a sharp 'snap.'

Harry barely made it to the toilet where he collapsed, clutching the edges of the white marble top so tightly his knuckles whitened. He cast a swift muffliato on the door to make sure he was not overheard, along with a locking spell. Then he screamed, a shrill, ear-piercing shriek of agony, as he felt that surely his head was going to split open from pain. It felt, quite literally, as though someone had sliced it in half with a hot knife.

_"I tire of you, old food." His cold, high-pitched voice resounded around the small, dark, windowless room. _

_ "My Lord I- I am sorry." _

_ "You dare address me as My Lord?" Lord Voldemort was highly amused. _

_ "N-no."_

_ "Twice my wand of yew was used to curse Harry Potter. Twice it failed. You told me the problem was due to the twin cores the wands share. When I used another's wand in my last attempt at conquer, it yet again failed."_

_ "I- it should not have. I fail to see why- "_

_ "I grow weary of your games. You have caused me nothing but aggravation. You will do so no longer. __Crucio!__" As Ollivander lay on the ground screaming and writhing, Voldemort felt a small sense of satisfaction, though it did nothing to alleviate his fury. He let the curse go on for several long minutes, listening to the old man's pathetic cries, until the proceedings grew tedious. _

"_I trust then that you will have the information the next time I come?" Ollivander lay on the floor panting and gasping. _

_ "Y-yes, My Lord." Lord Voldemort smiled cruelly down at him. _

As the scene disintegrated, Harry's vision swam into focus. He felt extremely weak, almost as sick as he had felt after Nagini bit him. His skin was clammy, and the trauma he had just witnessed caused his hands to shake, while he felt a keen sense of nausea settling in. As there was no mirror in the room he could not see how his face looked, but if the way the rest of his body felt was anything to compare it to, it was probably as white as Snape's. Biting his tongue though, he used every ounce of energy he possessed to force himself into a standing position, and wiping his sleeve across his brow to rid it of the sweat he knew must be there, he re-entered the main room.

Snape had not moved from the position in which he had stood when Harry had left moments earlier. His eyes followed him as he made his slow trek across the room, his expression unfathomable. Harry took his place across from him and took out his wand. Snape's black eyes swept over him for a long moment, before he said, slowly,

"Put that thing away, Potter. As you are obviously in no condition to continue with this lesson we will resume where we left off tomorrow." He then flicked his wand sharply, simultaneously causing a tray of food to appear and Harry's wand to fly into his hand.

Harry glared, but was too tired to argue or muster up any feeling other than extreme exhaustion, so giving in, he sank gratefully onto his cot where the tray had materialized. As Snape reached the door he paused, and Harry had the unsettling feeling that he was being legilimized. Snape said nothing however aside from the instruction to be ready again at seven o' clock the next day, and the door closed loudly.

Harry was too sick to eat the majority of his meal- which consisted of a large chunk of turkey breast with mashed potatoes on the side and stuffing- but he found the pumpkin juice surprisingly good, and drank most of it. It was strangely heavy, and Harry got the distinct impression that it had been laced with something besides pumpkin and water. He could not ponder it though, for moments later he had snuggled into the unaccustomed luxury feeling more comfortable than he could have imagined, and basked in the warmth under the blissful covers. It felt so good to not think about anything . . . to feel so tired he didn't have to bother to occlude. His last thought before he went to sleep was that his headache seemed to have miraculously disappeared, and with a start, which jolted him a bit before sleep finally overcame him, he realized Snape must have given him a pain potion. And then he was dead to the world.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I am a mule in a horse's harness . . . don't be fooled!**

**[A/N:] **

**Hello everyone,**

**First I want to apologize profusely for the amount of time it has taken me to update this chapter. I am extremely grateful to those of you who are keeping up with this story, and I want those of you who are still reading to know that I had no choice but to put Harry and Snape on the backburner for a little while, courtesy of final exams and transferring to another college. The balance of my life is extremely full and thus it takes longer than I'd like sometimes for me to keep my writing rolling. **

**Secondly I'd like to offer my sincere thanks to Ginnylove9990, Dark-Side-Of-Dawn, and Chloe for their reviews. Feedback of any sort holds my perpetual love as it helps to mold and make my story better. Though I am quite individual in my style, constructive reviews keep me on track and help to push me back on the straight and narrow so to speak when I am led astray. Thus, even if it is just a short response, please be aware that I welcome your input. **

**Thirdly, enjoy the story! It may be awhile before I update again, so make the most out of it, and please let me know what you think! Snape is such an interesting character, and discovering the different ways in which he can bend and twist while still remaining in canon will forever capture my interest. Oh, and Happy Belated New Year! Anyone have any unique New Year's Resolutions? **

Harry awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed than he had in many months. His sleep had been completely dreamless and devoid of the usual fretful tossing and turning, not excepting the fact that he hadn't moved to stand guard part of the night. As he got out of bed stretching luxuriously- all of his bones and muscles feeling relaxed and nimble- he found himself glancing around the room for a clock. He rose up into the darkness, pulling his shirt against himself tightly to ward off the cold of the dungeons. Bemusedly he shook his head. How could he have so forgotten himself? He looked penetratingly around. Shelves enshrouded by shadows loomed out at him from every angle- though his life had never been a picnic, it seemed he had always had Ron and Hermione with him in most epic circumstances and he found himself feeling strangely lonely. He was in an oppressive dingy little cell that was magically charmed to be kept secret by all but Snape, and he found himself laughing ironically at his penchant for ill fate.

He forced himself painstakingly out of bed and crossed to the bathroom. Snape had provided him with only the barest essentials, which of course didn't include extra clothing or the luxury of taking a shower. Not that this bothered him, mind; he had never had such things when he had spent endless days scouring the countryside for Horcruxes over the summer and he certainly didn't miss them now. Quite the contrary, he cringed at the notion of having such comforts, for in his situation just looking at them would have been a mockery. Such thoughts were observations of mere interest, since he didn't have time to notice them while living outside. He did however, wash his face, and tried to smooth down his hair in the usual fruitless attempts. Catching sight of his rumpled appearance in the mirror, he almost laughed again ruefully. He was going to smooth down his hair for a Death Eater!

Harry left the bathroom and sat back down to wait. Judging by the way his body felt (on whose clock he had learned to rely since he had no other method) he knew it to be about seven. There were no windows in the dark enclosure and his eyes fell hauntingly upon the bright glistening of some kind of green bottled vial that was sitting upon the desk, and other vials the room held that glittered with refined irony. He didn't have a wand, so he would have to wait until Snape spelled the room into light- a meaningless act, for in Harry's eyes there was nothing in the room worth seeing.

Whatever Harry's thoughts on the subject were proved null and void, for Snape entered the room upon the moment and the enclosure was instantly bathed in a dim light. As he charmed the door with his usual complicated wand movements, Harry sat tensely still, quietly watching. A moment later Snape pocketed his wand and faced him. The instant he looked at Snape he began to feel an inexplicable sense of sudden dread come over him. Snape stood staring at him without moving for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Finally he snapped,

"Follow me, Potter." Harry, feeling tremendously unsettled, trailed behind Snape over to the desk.

Snape opened the drawer crudely and shoved the contents within roughly aside, before extracting two identical, extremely vile looking potions.

"These are multi-faceted pain draughts, Potter, made from the extract of the skin of venomous serpents. I assume you are not aware of their properties?" he sneered. Harry shook his head, eyes fixated upon the thick, black, strikingly obtuse liquid the vials enclosed. "I thought not," said Snape. His eyes glittered slightly. "There is precious little you need to know about them other than that they are extremely dangerous and have the potential on certain occasions to be fatal." His voice lowered to a barely perceptible hiss. "Thus they are only to be used in the most _selective circumstances_." Snape's black eyes bored into him. And then his meaning dawned upon him. Harry felt as though his stomach had been hit by a falling anvil. "Properties take forty-eight hours to work," Snape said softly, "they function to provide a slight cushioning shield against various potent curses, though inevitably they cannot counteract them. Two vials is the equivalent of a twenty-four hour period after the initial forty-eight hour interval. Effects on the victim will still be present after the period has ended." Harry stared blankly into the face that he had hated for so long, that had leeched from him every possible ill-feeling from him in six years, the blackness inundating him like a raging sandstorm. Before he could stop himself he blurted,

"But how do I know I can trust you? You killed Dumbledore!" Snape stared down at him over his hooked nose, his lower lip curling. He said silkily,

"It does not appear you have much choice at the moment." Harry glared violently down at the vials, furious. Snape was right, of course. Whether or not he was on the side of the Order was irrelevant, really, since he had no choice but to obey him. Throwing Snape a fierce glare, Harry quickly downed the two glasses. The taste was appalling, worse than any potion he had ever drank, and for a moment Harry wondered if he really was being poisoned as he nearly gagged over the vile concoction. 'At least,' he thought wryly, 'if Snape kills me I won't have to worry about facing Voldemort.'

As soon as the liquid was down however Harry experienced an odd tingling sensation. It was as though cool water were trickling through all the veins in his body, and every muscle in his tired frame were being stretched out luxuriously, similar to how he had felt when he had just gotten out of bed that morning. It was an oddly calm feeling, and he felt a vague sense of disappointment wash over him when it ended. Before he had even taken the second vial from his lips, Snape flicked his wand and levitated the two empty glasses into an open space housed on one of the room's lower shelves.

"Sit," Snape then ordered, pointing Harry silently to a chair in front of the desk.

Snape whipped around the desk to stand behind it, scorning the appointed chair which stood there, and crossed his arms squarely in front of his chest. He observed Harry narrowly for a few long moments. Abruptly he said,

"As the Dark Lord expects our arrival within exactly forty-eight hours at an apparition point close to where he currently resides and encounter with him is inevitable, your escape must be planned prior to the event." Harry felt his face whiten in sudden shock.

"My- my escape?" he asked rather stupidly. He was going to be handed over to Voldemort as Snape's captive? He did not fail to note that Snape had used the term 'our.' Snape sneered.

"Yes, Potter, your escape. Unless I am wrong and you are ready to face the Dark Lord?" he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. In spite of his shock, Harry thought of the Horcruxes and immediately shook his head. He could not suppress the small bubble of hope that welled within him at Snape's words. If there was any chance at all that he would be able to finish his mission, he had to grasp it. Before he realized it he had moved to the edge of the seat, and was gripping the end of it tightly.

"As it will not be possible to predict the Dark Lord's plans precisely a large part of the act will inevitably be spontaneous," Snape continued. He sounded cool and unaffected. "Beyond basic training tailored to the Dark Lord's most utilized skills, the advent of his followers and consecutive events cannot be autonomously controlled." Harry was listening avidly, drinking in Snape's every word. He forced his face to remain neutral, masking his outer appearance from the growing inner excitement he felt. He kept himself quiet, feeling that to say anything at this point had the potential to be volatile. Snape continued to eye Harry narrowly. After a few moments he said dangerously,

"You are to practice occluding perpetually. Though it is unlikely that the Dark Lord will feel inclined to toy with you before he makes an attempt to kill you, there is the remotest possibility that he will do so in order to gain valuable information about the Order. Such will not be jeopardized by your utter lack of competency, Potter, and penchant for astonishingly abysmal work even in the direst circumstances. Do I make myself plain?" Snape's eyes bored into him. Harry swallowed, and gave him a curt nod. Snape continued watching him, and for a moment Harry thought he was going to drill him further, but he was seemingly satisfied with Harry's response, for a moment later he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a large purple marble. Casting the object a second glance Harry saw that it was actually a magically activated orb, similar to the Remembrall Neville had used in his first year. As Snape set the glowing ball on the desk, Harry stared at it bewildered, wondering what on earth Snape would need with a Remembrall.

"As you obviously do not know what this is," Snape sneered, "I will not waste my time with preliminaries." Snape paused ominously, and Harry began to feel distinctly nervous for some reason. Snape traced the upper line of his mouth with one thin, long white finger for a minute, his eyes boring hard into Harry. "Your adventures with the Dark Lord have thus far been a matter of luck," he continued in hard, clipped tones. "Even during the direst circumstances you never had any map or plan or even access to a portkey . . . "

"I did during the Triwizard Tournament," Harry said quickly. "That's how I escaped when- "

"Do not interrupt me Potter," Snape said, his eyes flashing dangerously. He looked extremely irate. His lips were a thin white line. Harry quieted, watching Snape carefully. Without even realizing it he had moved to the edge of the seat Snape had conjured and was gripping the end of it tightly. "As I was saying," said Snape. "The majority of your incidences with the Dark Lord have been composed solely of luck and pure chance. While you may have had help in some areas- " he waved a dismissive hand "- it is unimportant." Snape's long white fingers roved over the orb in an almost loving manner as he spoke, and Harry watched slightly apprehensively. Snape's expression was inscrutable. "The Cerebellum is a rare and extremely dangerous piece of Dark Magic," he said in a silky yet incomprehensible drawl that somehow caused Harry's nervousness to increase tenfold. "Because the effects of using it improperly can potentially be fatal its use has been censured by the Ministry. Due to the fact that the orb is rarely seen even amongst the darkest circles of magic it is not easily recognizable, and therefore the benefits to using it are unparalleled."

"You mean like the Death Eaters, sir?" Harry blurted. Time seemed to stand still for moment as Snape and Harry stared at each other. Harry did not mean to say it, it had burst from him out of natural reaction, and he was terrified that he had ruined his chances for attaining more information. However when Snape answered, his expression was still unfathomable. "Exactly so, Potter." His voice sounded oddly neutral. Again Harry felt his dread increase. "The Cerebellum is magically bonded to the mind of the individual using it, and will only activate itself in situations of mortal peril. Upon request, the orb will utilize its portkey features to take its bonded to the next safest location relative to circumstance." Harry stared at Snape bewildered, trying desperately to process the information. Snape sneered, then pocketed the orb with a deft movement. Before Harry knew what had happened he had strode to the door, his wand raised. In a movement so swift that Harry didn't catch it, the door was spelled, and a tray conjured which Harry assumed was lunch. Wordlessly he exited.

Harry sat staring for a moment at the place where Snape had vanished. Slowly he got up, crossed over to the cot and sank onto it. He ignored the tray that was on the floor. He shook his head to himself. He was forced to wonder seriously for the first time if Snape was really working for the Order. He mind trekked over everything Snape had said and done in the last two days. After awhile, he was forced conclude that there had been nothing in Snape's words or mannerisms that gave even the slightest indication that he was working for one side or the other. The only heavy insinuation had lain in his actions.

Was it possible that it was a farce? Harry had no doubt that where Snape was concerned anything was possible. But the fact that Snape had mentioned his escape to him was nearly irrefutable. Harry knew that unless this was an extremely convoluted and subtle trick, enlightening Harry put Snape in a very perilous situation. Were Voldemort ever to read Snape's mind no doubt he would be killed for his treachery. Then Harry received a sudden jolt. He was supposed to be practicing Occlumency! Now Snape's actions over the past two days made sense. If he was really working as a spy for the Order incognito, and Harry gave Voldemort a chance to know about it . . . his bones chilled at the thought of all the other things that might spill from him once his mind was in Voldemort's clutches.

With this thought in mind, Harry began to work extremely hard for the rest of the day at keeping his mind blank. This was no easy task, since his thoughts were spinning with ambiguity, but through a tremendous surge of will and effort, he forced himself to become numb, and to close himself off. He had learned the art over the summer as a defense mechanism when the horrible reality he had faced became too much to handle, but he found he could do it almost just as easily through willpower. It took no effort, as it had previously, for effort was a feeling, and Harry knew that the best measure for success lay in prevention of that feeling. Now, through forced circumstances or not, he understood what Snape had always been trying to teach him. He was simply a walking dummy.

When Snape reentered the room a little later it was around six, though Harry wasn't aware of it because Occlumency didn't allow him to measure time. Snape erected the protections spells, then turned and with a negligent flick banished the two trays Harry had eaten from yesterday and this afternoon. He then strode over to the desk and Harry followed, picking up his wand that had been placed there. With mechanical movements, as though he were a robot awaiting a command, he moved to stand against the wall in his usual place. Snape's cold black eyes bored into him. Harry met his gaze steadily.

"On the count of three then, Potter," he said softly. "One. Two. Three. _Legilimens!"_

Harry could feel the spell pushing against his mind, but he was ready for it. As images suddenly flashed before him he strengthened his occluding efforts, and, through strenuous physical and mental exertion forced himself to remain blank. His mind was, virtually, an empty slate. Eventually he registered the force growing steadily stronger though, and his wall was penetrated by small flashes of bright white light. He quickly raised his wand and cried,

"Protego!"

He could no longer see anything of the room around him as his world commenced spinning with teeming images. They rolled before him like a muggle film on fast forward and he could make not hide nor hair of what was going on, feeling even less in control because the memories were not his. They were moving too fast for him to think, or feel, and he could not gain any semblance of control. He saw Snape sitting by the lake at Hogwarts talking to a pretty red-haired girl with green eyes, and then the same girl sitting by a different lake, talking to a Snape that looked much younger, as did the girl, who looked to be no more than about nine or ten. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and the child-Snape looked calm and relaxed as he laid spread eagle across the ground, looking up at her. There was a pinched-faced, mousy-looking girl coming up to them in the background. Before Harry could do more than register the image, he heard a loud cry of,

"ENOUGH!" He felt as though he were being pushed hard in the chest by a force he could not see, and he suddenly fell backward against the wall as potions vials splattered around him. Harry looked around himself, the room swimming dizzily back into focus. Realizing that he was soaking in a strange substance, he hastily picked himself up. He watched as Snape whispered a spell to repair the vials. Snape's face was extremely white, and his shoulders were shaking slightly. Harry's blank mode from moments earlier had completely disappeared, and now only one exclusive thought danced around in his head- _it was my mother_.

Snape straightened and Harry felt, for the second time that day, a horrible inexplicable feeling of sure dread. He didn't know what those flashes of memories meant to Snape, but he was certain beyond a shadow of a reason that Harry's knowledge of them were not top on his priority list. Snape's dark eyes glinted at him. His expression was impassive.

"That was acceptable, Potter, however there are many more ways of blocking me than using a shield charm. Though effective, it is unlikely that you will have a wand whilst in the presence of the Dark Lord . . . therefore you must dispense with it." Snape held out one white, long-fingered hand, and Harry, not liking the malicious gleam dancing in his eyes, handed his wand over. He pocketed it, and Harry shot him a loathsome glare.

"On the count of three, Potter," said Snape. In spite of himself, Harry began to feel a bit panicky. How in the world was he supposed to block Snape without a wand? "One." Harry closed his eyes. "Two. Three. _Legilimens!"_

An hour after Snape had left Harry felt as though he would never again be able to think properly. His mind felt like it had been pulled mercilessly in a million different directions, and as he sat down on the cot his knees were shaking slightly. Snape's attack had been poignantly brutal, and it had taken nearly the whole hour for Harry to block him without the use of a wand. When he had finally managed, the action seemed to take the last of his waning energy, and he was starting to regret his herculean effort. Every slight movement made his head feel like it was about to explode. Groaning, he went over to the bathroom and stuck his head under the hot water tap for a few minutes. When he turned it off, he felt marginally better. Feeling too weak to touch the food that had been left for him, he merely laid down on his cot, pulling the white cotton blanket over him, and tried desperately not to move lest he provoke further pain. He eventually fell into a painful doze, one in which he tried to remain detached from the nightmare which consumed him.

When Snape entered the room at seven again the next morning Harry's headache had receded somewhat. His sleep had nonetheless been penetrated by nightmares and stabs of anger from Voldemort which Harry was becoming slowly used to, though were exceedingly cumbersome. Giving the tray Harry had left uneaten a dismissive glance, Snape merely beckoned him with one of his long spidery fingers. Grumbling Harry followed him, with a distinct feeling of foreboding that this session was going to be much worse than the last one had. He already felt weakened from the night before, and not eating anything hadn't helped his state. He knew however, that time was running short. He also realized subconsciously that Snape wouldn't be putting such time into these sessions if they weren't extremely important, and at any rate the position Harry was in left him no choice but to comply with his instructions. So with an effort, Harry steeled himself for Snape's advent into his mind with all the energy he possessed.

"I trust," said Snape smoothly, "that even you had sense enough to practice after last night?" Harry looked up into the cold black eyes and swallowed.

"Yeah I did, well . . . er- tried to." He averted his gaze. He thought it wise not to tell Snape that he had been in too much pain last night to do much of anything.

"We'll soon see won't we?" Snape said in the same smooth tone. Harry looked back at him. He swallowed again nervously. The coal black, fathomless eyes bored into him. "On three," said Snape softly. "One. Two. Three. _Legilimens!"_

As soon as the spell hit, Harry's waning headache from the night before came back in full measure. Harry fought valiantly, but he knew it was a losing battle. Before he knew it he was wrapped up in the rush of sound and images Snape was calling forth, and he was powerless to stop the looming memory from developing. As he watched, his senses in the memory seemed to increase tenfold . . .

_ 'It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch . . . '_

The memory dissipated and the room materialized around him. Harry's knees were shaking and he could feel sweat dripping down his face, but miraculously he had managed to stay upright. He felt extremely ill and vulnerable, and found himself fighting tremendously hard to keep his emotions in check. He closed his eyes for a long moment, breathing raggedly.

"Pathetic Potter," Snape snarled. "You are as selfish and arrogant as your father was. He too gave no thought to the safety of others, and strutted about school thinking the world revolved around him. I would have thought even you not foolish enough to jeopardize the Order. Or have you been waltzing around the country these many months doing simply nothing?" Harry opened his eyes and glared at Snape.

"Yeah," he found himself saying sarcastically. "Yeah that's exactly what I've been doing. My friends and I decided to take a vacation . . . get away from everything . . . " He knew Snape was furious, but at the moment he didn't care. He was sick of everything, so sick that, had fate not forced his hand as the wizarding world's pillar, he would have been glad not to be Harry Potter anymore. The glass vials behind Harry glittered enticingly and he had the sudden urge to throw one of them. Snape's eyes narrowed at him. He said, in a deadly low whisper,

"If upon my return I discover that anything in this room has been damaged, I will make sure you are forced to drink whatever it is you have wasted." He made an odd jerk with his arm in the opposite direction, then strode to the door. After performing the necessary spells he turned again toward Harry. He surveyed him coolly for a moment through his greasy lank curtains of black hair. "At six o' clock, it will be necessary to discuss further details of your capture. Be ready." With that he gave his wand a rapid flick, and left without a backward glance.

Harry sank to the floor and let his head fall between his knees. He closed his eyes, and breathed slowly in and out for a few moments, trying to get his emotions under control. His head was spinning with bitter thoughts about his situation and hatred towards Snape, though he knew this wasn't going to help his Occlumency. Suddenly his stomach growled. He looked over at the tray Snape had left from last night. He was too sick to feel much anxiety at the moment, and the contents were beginning to look rather enticing. Wearily he got up and helped himself to the dinner plate of old chicken. He hadn't taken more than a few bites when he was hit with an odd bout of weariness. He tried to fight it, but it seemed as though an invisible person were pushing down on his eyelids against his will, and he was powerless against it. Before he knew what had hit him he had succumbed to a heavy sleep, blissfully unaware of the evening's events, or the looming trials that awaited him the following morning.

Harry was jolted to crude consciousness when unidentifiable sounds began to penetrate his blissful other world. The grating sounds became recognizable as Snape came into focus while sobriety hit him, and simultaneously acute dread. Harry sat up in a flash, nearly knocking his glasses off his face with the rapidity of the motion, which he had not had time to remove before he had fallen into his much needed slumber. He caught them quickly before they fell off his nose. Snape snarled.

"Get yourself together Potter, we have no time for your theatrics." He whipped around, and moved to stand before the shelves parallel to where Harry's cot was situated. There was something different about him, Harry noticed. The change was so subtle he couldn't pinpoint it, yet there was something unfamiliar about his demeanor. Snape swept around again to face him. Harry could just see that tips of his yellow gnarled fingernails from within the folds of his black robes, where his long-fingered hands rested in their opposing elbows.

"Our arrival within the Dark Lord's ranks is expected at eight o' clock tomorrow morning. At that time it will be necessary to validate your incarceration, since little trust can be placed in your ability to occlude." Snape's mouth twisted over the last words as though he had swallowed something particularly crude. Harry swallowed.

"Wh-where will we be apparating?" He cursed himself for allowing his voice to waver. Snape didn't answer him for a moment. His black eyes were gleaming oddly.

"At the present time . . . the exact location of the Dark Lord's current abode is unclear. The Dark Lord has ensured however, that prior knowledge to events taking place within his circle are unnecessary." Harry said nothing. His mind was swirling with a million different questions, but he knew that to push Snape's buttons would be analogous to throwing himself into a pit and lighting a fire over it, thus he was trying uncharacteristically hard to keep the full measure of Snape's wrath from falling upon him. Strange though it seemed, it was becoming more and more apparent that his only possible ticket out of this situation would come through Snape. Snape's eyes narrowed at him.

"Any further questions?" Harry nearly gaped at him. Snape was about to hand him over to the Death Eaters and he wanted to know if he had any other questions? He was treating the matter as though Harry were merely studying for a potions practical. Nonetheless he frantically combed through the spinning turmoil that was his mind, trying desperately to grasp at something, anything, pull out a random question. He found one.

"The erm- potion," he said quickly. "You said it was going to last forty-eight hours. Does that mean that- are you telling me I won't feel any pain if Lord Voldemort or the Death Eaters cast a spell on me?" Snape snarled.

"I have told you not to say the Dark Lord's name!" he spat. "A parrot could mimic me better than you, Potter. If you had the decency to listen when others endeavor to teach you anything, it would not have escaped your notice that the pain draughts I gave you require a forty-eight hour incubation period before they begin to work, after which they can be utilized for twenty-four hours. During that time they will work to soften yet not completely eliminate any spell that is cast upon their host. Once the potions wear off the user will experience the natural after-effects of whatever curse has been cast." Harry said nothing. He was not sure he wanted to know what would happen if he was still in the presence of the spell-castors when the potions ran out, or what would happen if everything didn't run according to plan. Snape held the chest of this savvy, and because Harry had no other choice but to place his complete faith in it, he didn't want to know the full extent of what the chest held. His only forte was to push desperately away at the niggling suspicion that the chest was riddled with holes. Snape continued watching him through slightly slitted eyelids. When Harry's silence persisted he turned on his heel.

"Wait, um- " He wasn't really sure what he was about to say. Though he had known what he would be facing since the end of his fifth year when Dumbledore had shown him the prophecy, in the last hour he felt as though his life had speeded up like a switch at the merry-go-round. He had never had the chance to dwell on his potential death so thoroughly before where it should have been appropriate, but thanks to Snape, dying suddenly appeared much more potent now where its previous outlook had been characterized by adventure. When he had been with Ron and Hermione life had been a livened game of chance, the exceptional one that only Harry Potter could have lived. Now, with Snape's hand on the door-handle, about to trap him once more in his probable death, he wondered how he could have ever felt so special. After all, hundreds of muggles had been executed by law in a manner not so dissimilar to the situation that was his own. The only difference was that they had awaited their end in a jail cell rather than a room lined with potions vials.

Snape had stopped with his back turned to him. Harry could see his curtain of greasy black hair molding his head in sweeping arcs. They gave shape to the shadowy apparition created by his black robes, which were of the same character as his hair. He swallowed again forcefully.

"What will happen if you're discovered?" Snape turned. His black eyes bored into him for a moment. For a fraction of an instant his pale complexion seemed to grow faintly whiter. An instant later however, his face again smoothed over into a cool mask of blank indifference. Snape's lips pressed together into a thin white line.

"And why," he said in a low and venomous whisper, "pray tell, would you ask such a thing?" Harry shrugged off-handedly.

"I thought it might be important." Snape continued to watch him through shuttered slits. He seemed to be considering.

"It is not worthy of discussion," he said finally. "The Dark Lord has many ways of beguiling his victims, Potter, against which the ability to occlude creates the most foolproof security available. Events in his circle cannot be planned, for those even that are best laid are thwarted. Knowledge of the way his mind works and skills masterful enough to challenge those utilized by the Dark Lord have aided those who have sought to conquer him in the past. Where both are used, neither will triumph over the other." Harry nodded once more. He was beginning to feel rather ill. Snape observed him shrewdly for another long minute. He then took his wand out and waved it to conjure a tray of food. A goblet stood beside it full of what looked to be the usual pumpkin juice. Without another word he turned on his heel and left, causing the door to cry out loudly in protest, leaving Harry in a deathly kind of quiet.

Feeling nauseous settling in, Harry crossed to where the tray had been set and sat down cross-legged on the floor beside it. He stared at the food for a long-moment. A myriad of emotions had crossed him during Snape's brief interlude, but all the anxiety that he knew he should be feeling was now being undermined by a familiar throbbing which he now realized had been nagging at him all day. Scorning the food, he reached his hand towards the goblet in which was swirling an orange substance, faintly mixed with some sort of pearly white element. With a strange feeling in his chest, he tipped the goblet back and downed the juice. Almost immediately afterward his heartbeat began to slow and his body felt heavier, as he stretched out across the floor into a cat-like position in a way that suggested it was the most natural thing in the world. He blinked his eyes blearily and looked around. A spectrum of glistening colors in expensive crystal swam in a lavish warmth of refined and polished beauty, which dazzled and sparkled prettier than the Atlantic sea above him. Before he fell asleep, he vaguely wondered how he had gotten to be so rich.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up before he fully awoke. It seemed as though his body was programmed to know before consciousness hit, and a black shadowy form commenced to penetrate his intelligence. As Harry opened his eyes fully, his gaze was caught by the hauntingly beautiful dark form of something that looked faintly purple . . . a jolt of electricity ran through him. He sat up in a flash, panting slightly as his heartbeat began to quicken, his blood being replaced by coursing adrenaline. Harry looked around himself, a bit of embarrassment crossing him when he realized he had fallen asleep on the floor. Snape beckoned him forward impatiently.

"Quickly," he spat at him. Glaring, Harry nonetheless hurriedly moved forward, stumbling a bit in his haste to get into an upright position. Snape's wand was out and he was waving it in quick, precise movements over the Cerebellum, muttering a strange songlike incantation under his breath that sounded rather like Latin. The orb glowed several different colors, vibrated for a few seconds, then returned to its normal purplish hue. He then pointed his wand at Harry. Within an instant, thick ropes flew out from the end of his wand and wrapped themselves around Harry's legs and torso, binding him tightly enough to constrict movement.

"Hey!" he yelled furiously, "what do you think you're- "

"Hush, Potter." With a frowning look of intense concentration, Snape then waved his wand in several wide complicated arc movements across Harry's chest. A jet of smoky green light materialized before him in the form of a circle. When the substance vanished, Snape repeated the incantation at Harry's backside. A red light formed this time, displaying the same characteristics and behavior as the green one had. He retracted, and began to summon various potions vials from around the room. Harry wondered what time it was. He knew it couldn't have been exactly eight o'clock yet because surely they would already have apparated. Upon the moment this thought crossed him his scar started to sear with an almost heat-ignited pain. The spontaneity of it hit him like a murderous ton of rogue bricks across the forehead. He gritted his teeth as intense insane laughter rippled through him from an outside source, and his forehead seemed to vibrate with sickening waves of flaming heat and be simultaneously mauled by a demon-possessed paper-shredder- he thought he was going to be sick.

Across the room, Snape's teeth had bared into a nasty scowl and Harry thought he had a pretty good idea why. His left arm had become rigid as his right hand tightened at the same time into a vice-like grip around the vial he was holding, to the extent that it looked as though it might shatter. Harry's vision began to blur slightly as his muscles gave signs that soon they were going to have trouble supporting him. _Not this_, Harry thought desperately, _not now_. With an incredible iron-like effort worthy of the Great Merlin, he forced away the notion. He felt himself drifting into that calm, peaceful windowless serenity- a blank numbing mode of silent in which he and everything around him no longer existed. The gentle ocean-like surges he detected soon became one with his own breathing. After a few moments of this, he opened his eyes.

Snape was staring at him in a way that was highly unnerving. It was a shrewd, penetrating look, one that was almost- calculating. Harry shifted a bit uncomfortably. When he felt the ropes rub against his skin once more his blood suddenly began coursing with hot, fury-spiked adrenaline. Harry gritted his teeth.

"You- let me out of these ropes," he said in a low, fury-ignited whisper.

"Oh I think not Potter," Snape said smoothly. "You see, the Dark Lord must be made aware of the effects of your ah . . . special predicament." Harry turned his head away, silently seething. He did not think he could ever have found someone that garnered the extent of his hatred for Voldemort, but at the moment admitted he seemed to have found a candidate. "Enough of this," Snape hissed coldly. "I have no more time for you and your sniveling antics." Before Harry had registered the action, Snape had crossed to where he stood, and grabbed his left arm roughly. Within moments he felt his feet lift, and darkness inundated him as they began spinning within a cyclone of infinite nothingness while gravity removed itself from all existence, and at some point of which exact time Harry was uncertain his heart gave a jolt of sudden terror . . .


	6. NOTE TO READERS

NOTE TO THOSE OF YOU THAT ARE FOLLOWING THIS STORY:

To appease the minds of you that are keeping up with my story, please note that it is not abandoned. Due to my tremendous schedule at the moment I am simply unable to continue updating regularly. Throughout the spring and summer months I have hope that I will become more steady, and that my habits will eventually peter out to serve those of you that are following my story adequately. Because I am writing this story for my own enjoyment I may not become rigid as do some of the authors who write on this site more proficiently, though for the sake of record, I do intend to finish the story. Nevertheless in spite of my fallaciousness in this matter, I am very grateful to those of you who deem it worth enough to be sticklers, and highly appreciate and welcome any comments you may have in the meantime. Note that I cannot answer comments to those of you who do not login, so please do so if you expect any sort of reply.


	7. Chapter 7

**I AM RETITILING THIS STORY. NOW TO BE CALLED 'HARRY POTTER AND THE DARK SECRET.' SUMMARY WILL SOON CHANGE. SORRY FOR ANY INCONVENIENCES.**

**(A/N:) **

**I imagine that those of your who are reading this story and so kindly have kept up with my updates so far have had the intelligence and understanding to know that I am only able to continue this piece on the basis of a restrained time-frame. However, I **_**am**_** happily picking this story up once more through the spring and summer months, and, if all goes well, will continue to update until fall. My sketchy goal is to have a new chapter set for reading every two or so weeks, though no doubt I will go over. I welcome inquiries of any sort, and any kind of helpful reviews I live off of, including constructive and thought-provoking criticism. Please keep in mind that this chapter-length Harry and Snape story though based generally on events of canon, will sometimes meander away from certain hard cold book details, as my main goal does not focus on this but KEEPING THE CHARACTERS TRUE. Contact me with questions about anything that seems hazy, and don't forget to review! **

After the spinning had stopped and Harry's feet were planted firmly, he slowly opened his eyes, at first not being able to discern anything but complete darkness. As his vision adjusted itself, the shadowy form of Snape came into view beside him, and further in the distance, other forms of an indeterminable nature that from his viewpoint vaguely resembled gliding spectres. They moved with a god-like precision through the shapeless nothingness of their surroundings, and for some odd reason Harry found himself thinking of the time in class when Mad-Eye-Moody utilized a spider to give a demonstration of the unforgivable killing curse. As Snape prodded Harry closer through his bonds, he felt an instantaneous chill sweep over him which evoked the immediate realization that the shadowy figures were dementors. 'Perfect,' he thought wryly. Snape and dementors clumped together in an area so dark he couldn't see his hand in front of his face was certainly no more idealistic than competing for Horcruxes with Voldemort, but the thought of what was to come was cruel. Before he had time to ponder over the meaning of their presence, a series of surrounding creaks went off, and what looked to be cutouts detached themselves from the wall of faceless blackness, quickly becoming animated. They moved in the same direction the dementors had gone. At this point Snape's stride suddenly became more forceful, and Harry fought himself not to trip as the tip of his former teacher's wand pushed him brutally forward, the ropes binding him rendering his mobility doubly difficult.

After they had been walking for a few minutes through the barely penetrable gloom, the mad thumping of Harry's heart nearly in his throat making him light-headed, an unearthly light slowly materialized from an unknown source, providing him finally with a view of their environment. Unable to stop himself he gasped, though the reaction sprang more from his surprise than it did shock; at least a dozen Death Eaters stood lining a semi-circle, their hooded eyes all drawn toward the center. But that was not what made the back of Harry's neck prickle as though the wind was tickling them. The quality about the scene which made everything eerie and filled him with certain dread was the point which drew the Death Eater's gaze so profoundly- absolutely nothing of consequence that held the interest in everyone's eyes lay shimmering in a small pool that couldn't appear to make up its mind about whether it wanted to stay in its current form or become a liquid, and emanated such an intensity of brightness that Harry found it hard to keep his eyes upon it. Yet, something about the way Lord Voldemort's followers kept looking at the strange thing grasped Harry's fascination, and, in spite of his desire not to watch the light, he found his eyes travelling to the enigmatic source completely against his will. It was as if everyone was waiting in anticipation for an epic deliverance, and whatever the green light harbored promised not to disappoint.

A rush through the trees alerted Harry to the woods encircling the group, and in the split second he looked away from the burning light he was immediately touched by an odd indescribable sensation, which transposed nearly immediately into a rock-bomb of simultaneous forces that hit him like a ledge. In a slow, nearly mechanical movement, he tried to double over in a gasp of pain in an effort of utter failing, his eyes travelling once more to that unnamed source against his will, whose energy was now pulsing with a heat that somehow caused his body to ignite with whatever evil the thing harbored. His instincts informed him before Lord Voldemort's arrival, while Harry's being became filled with a catapulting terror, one which seemed unreasonable considering his life's role. A thin robed figure slowly emerged in the proximity of the flaming pool, and Harry could not tell if it was Lord Voldemort who took on the pool or whether the light merely vanished in the wake of his emergence. But any discerning on his part would have been impossible, for at that moment Harry's scar exploded with a ghastly pain in response to which he doubled over, thankfully noting that he was in control of his faculties once more through the haze. Somewhere through his distress he heard a mad cackling, and near his side he felt an odd twitch.

"My lord." A whiff of air roared past him and the ground nearby to him trembled. The red in his eyes darkened slightly as a wavering form passed in front of his line of vision. Harry was strangely aware of the hushed silence that had closed over the circle since Voldemort's arrival, and through his suffering could feel rather than hear a hushed series of interchanges being processed. After a timeless moment, the previous vibration of the ground repeated itself, this time channeling over to his place of infamy. In a split second, his scar erupted. White fingers splayed in front of his face through red eyes before something cold and rubbery shocked him out of his horror, causing him to open his eyes fully.

"Harry Potter." Harry gazed steadily at him. He looked around for a brief moment. His eyes travelled to each of Lord Voldemort's solidly swathed Death Eaters before turning towards his right slightly. Snape stood a couple of centimeters behind Voldemort. His elbows were crossed before his chest resting against his spidery long fingers. His black eyes were plastered upon Voldemort and his face was cold and implacable, giving no sign that he was aware of Harry's gaze. His hands tightened over his bindings inadvertently.

"The great Harry Potter sees fit to grace us once again with his presence. We are truly honored. Perhaps he would like me to bow?" A ring of laughter permeated the circle, coupled with a few guffaws and a familiar cackling. The throbbing in Harry's head made him feel as though it had taken a hammer's beating, the intensity of it instilling his hands with the urge to press down upon his scar. "No? You wouldn't like me to bow Harry?" His sibilant sigh lingered in the air for a moment, though after the vanishing wake of the sigh continued to tease everyone, he realized that Voldemort expected an answer.

"No, I wouldn't," he ground out.

"Ahhh." Voldemort seemed almost disappointed. "Well I had hoped . . . but there is no need to worry. When one has power there is always a route of defeat. You are a honed tool of the _great_ Albus Dumbledore." A subdued murmur of laughter arose from Lord Voldemort's followers. Voldemort paused for a moment to allow the effects of his words to settle. "So in allowing of this epic sacrifice he has also inadvertently allowed you to gain power." Harry stared up into snake-like face, for once completely at a loss for words. "You do not understand? No, I suppose not. Yet still, we are not so dissimilar, you and I." The hem of his black robes brushed past him as Voldemort began to pace, and Harry involuntarily recoiled. He seemed to be almost talking to himself. "I have become the most powerful wizard that ever lived, but the grounds in which I was born were not worthy of my feet. I overcame this barrier- I obliterated my worthless father at the first available opportunity. I saw the failings which surrounded me and I could not allow it. I knew of a way to triumph- to have the world at my hands so that I would be able to utilize it as I saw fit. I had learned to recognize uselessness early and what a danger it was, so I was easily able to incorporate that knowledge into a better skill. I was able to exterminate the flaws which burdened my childhood on a universal scale for a greater cause"- He threw his head back and a slur of mirthless laughter escaped him, so tangible in its eeriness that Harry's neck hairs curled- "though, even I must admit that I did not know my cause of power to be so disrupted." Voldemort stopped speaking. He gazed at Harry oddly through his slitted eyes, curiously almost.

"In some ways . . . " He trailed off into ominous laughter once more, but there was something different about it this time. A scythe seemed to cut through Harry incomprehensibly striking him with a terrible feeling of foreboding, but missing his heart apparently, for it was suddenly surging upward in a mad spiral. He swallowed against his bile. The thundering in his ears conversed in a harmony with the dawning realization that consecutively hailed him. A slow second permeated, in which a line of silver slashed across him. Harry barely registered it as his ropes came off in a magic that simultaneously seemed to sweep them aside as well as crack them off of him like a coconut.

"Face me, Harry Potter." Harry heard a stir as the Death Eaters drew slightly closer, a murmur of anticipation controlling them. As he stood up shakily through the heat of his pain, his eyes alighted briefly upon Snape. He had not moved from his former position behind Voldemort. His face was so still and smooth it seemed to be set in marble, his expression coolly inscrutable. Harry tried to rid himself of all thoughts of him and the confused muddle Snape generated in his head as he slowly brought his eyes back to Voldemort. The formed pigments behind his slitted eyelids were a grossly eerie phenomenon of gleaming red rubies- ping-pong balls. "You are truly a novelty." Voldemort's lips curled into a smile. Harry's body became lined by a stiffening force which rippled with another manifestation that strengthened his constitution. It worked in tandem with his mind. Involuntary though the newcomer may have been, Harry was grateful for the momentary numbness that swept away any remnant of his fear. _"Crucio!"_

Harry immediately fell to the ground in agony, his limbs shaking uncontrollably as the murderous pain of what felt to be a hundred smooth knives sunk into him, his scorching vision making him unable to discern anything save vague shadows from his surroundings. He clamped his mouth tightly shut against the curse, unwilling to give Voldemort the satisfaction of hearing him scream. After an endless moment the spell was abruptly lifted. For a second Harry lay gasping, listening quietly to the rumbling guffaws rifling through the Death Eaters, then slowly fought himself into a sitting position.

"Ahhh . . . so Harry Potter shows his valor. Your mudblood mother too was exceedingly brave, brave enough to sacrifice herself so that I would spare you." Voldemort then turned towards Snape. "Give him his wand Severus." Snape gave Voldemort a curt bow. Harry's heart was thumping so loudly that it mixed with the throbbing in his scar that still lingered, making him unable to distinguish between the two meters. He did not dare look up as Snape handed him his wand. As he felt his fingers close around the smooth wood, he felt a faint surge of reassurance swell inside him. "Step closer to me, Harry Potter." Before Harry had even moved, he heard a rushing noise behind him, and turning slightly, saw that the Death Eaters behind him had closed the last few feet where he had been sitting, completing the semi-circle so that he and Voldemort were entirely surrounded. He noticed for the first time Lucius Malfoy standing among the grouping that flanked his rear, who was standing next to none other than Bellatrix Lestrange. When she spotted him looking at her she let out a low cackle.

"Baby Potter having to put up a hard fight? Don't worry, no doubt you'll be joining your precious godfather soon." As Harry gazed at the strong feature of Sirius' killer his terror was momentarily misplaced as hatred seeped into his veins. He glared daggers at her, wishing he could hex her on the spot.

"It seems you have hit a soft spot Bella." Voldemort said softly. He sounded almost amused. Harry turned slowly back around to face Voldemort. He became sharply aware of something heavy in his left pocket. He nonchalantly slipped a hand into it and ran his fingers over it lightly, and nearly started. It was the Cerebellum.

He was a bit wary of the object. Snape had mentioned that it was an extremely potent piece of dark magic, and Harry had no doubt that he was correct in his assessment. As he gazed back into Voldemort's face he tried to do some quick thinking.

"I have tired of playing with you Harry." His voice sounded almost loving, curling itself into the air like black silk. Harry felt a chill creep up his spine. The thundering of his heart was murderous. His mind was spinning. Where would the orb take him?

"You have thwarted me for the last time. Albus Dumbledore's strung puppet has admittedly staged a show better than I had thought possible, but it was only a matter of time before those strings were cut. The final act has finally come to a close." As Voldemort raised his wand, as he could hear the collective intake of breath from all the Death Eaters, he made a split-second decision. Harry's hand closed tightly around the orb. He clamped his jaw together and he concentrated as hard as he could on escaping, on the Horcruxes he still had left to find, on his need to live, on Ginny . . . he felt himself spinning as his feet lifted. He rose into the air and had a brief glimpse of Voldemort and his Death Eaters down below him, before the spinning quickly became faster and everything went black, sweeping him into space to the accompaniment of diminishing chaos that tapered off completely as he left the scene entirely. There was a minute in which he had no sense of time, or space, or air, and then a thud. He opened his eyes falteringly for a moment to the setting of a dark room, then the physical exhaustion of his body overcame him, and he promptly passed out.

A wiggling form danced before him tantalizingly, making Harry stretch his hands in a stunted effort to catch it. The form then wavered knowingly, its indiscernibly pale pigment taking on a more lurid green color, beginning at once to twist and writhe. His heart in his throat, Harry awoke with a start, only to glance blearily around to see nothing but shadows before him. His hands abruptly fell back down at his sides. His awareness was sharp enough for him to realize that he was lying on the floor of a building of some sort, lined with shelves of books encircling some type of living arrangement, before the pain in his head became too much and he again screwed his eyes tightly shut. With his eyes closed, he tried to take what little stock he could of his surroundings. From what little he had been able to see of his brief image, he knew he was obviously in someone's living quarters. The room was furnished so scarcely that he could not tell whether the house's inmates were muggle or wizard. He cracked his eyelids open once more slowly, this time paying closer attention to the room's detail. In addition to the shelves which took up the majority of the enclosure a sofa, chair, and small table sporting a haphazard assortment of books was barely detectable through the depression. From the layout of these items in alignment with the shelves he had a feeling that he had apparated somewhere near one of the room's edges. He craned his neck slightly in a pathetic attempt to determine what lay behind him, but the pain in his head immediately retaliated against this idea; Harry resignedly allowed his head to fall back. Dejectedly he sighed, closing his eyes again in tired defeat. Before he knew it, he had slipped back into blissful unconsciousness.

When Harry finally awoke for the second time he felt as though he were skipping steps. A thin light filtering through the room cast stripes across him placing him for a moment in a dream of heavy warmness. He basked in this for no longer than an instant before he awakened fully, the thought that he didn't know where he was entering his mind causing him a startled jolt. Bathed in light the room from before was unrecognizable, and in one fell swoop two things hit Harry: first, that it obviously must have still been night when he last woke, and secondly that the house in which he had apparated undoubtedly belonged to a wizard. Now that he could see the room clearly the threadbare sofa with its matching chair, though overused, were arranged so that the sides were showing, and Harry could see where patching up had been done in some places using spell work. He gently craned his head to peer more closely at the books stationed directly across from him in an attempt to see some of the titles. The only one he could make out was that from a thick black volume whose spine was slightly to the forefront of the others and was engrossed in thick gold letters. A Complete Guide to Dark Magic: Not for the Faint at Heart, was written plainly across it. So this was the house of a dark wizard, Harry thought grimly. He desperately hoped it did not belong to one of Lord Voldemort's followers, but he knew there was an excellent chance that it did. Unbidden, the thought came to him that he fervently needed Hermione.

A loud bang accompanied by someone caterwauling brought him out of his reverie. Somewhere in the rear of the house a low hiss sounded, followed by a short interchange that was decidedly indiscernible. A second later a door banged, then everything went quiet. Harry instinctively reached into his pocket, hoping desperately that his wand was still with him. When his fingers closed around the smooth wood he breathed in an inadvertent sigh of relief. He struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the achy protest of his body, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement. A voice in his head was doubting this act in adherence to the fact that the room did not appear to house a door, at least not to his knowledge, but Harry did not care. After a moment however in which nothing happened he relaxed a little. Until the bookshelf in front of him began to move.

The wall across from him turned before Harry had even had a chance to gain his footing, and he cursed himself for not being aware of all the entrapments of the room. Not underestimating the identity of the person, he had a curse upon his lips and his wand raised, but, before he was able to speak the curse aloud he was promptly disarmed.

A thin black-robed figure stepped into the room. His heart beating erratically, unable and not caring to see which of Voldemort's followers had somehow found a way to follow him to his refuge, Harry immediately tried to think of another avenue by which to defend himself.

"Sit back down Potter," a voice hissed which immediately filled him with ire. Long white fingers that he could almost have mistaken for Voldemort's slipped from under the man's sleeves and pulled off the faceless hood.

Harry did not move, and for a moment just stood there staring dumbly at him." As much pleasure as it would give me to incarcerate you again Potter, surprising as it may seem, there is unfortunately more to do tonight than involves you," Snape said, almost waspishly. Harry did not have a clue as to what was going on, but in the face of both wands pointing at him he sat down reluctantly, though he continued to watch him warily.

Snape scoured the room's perimeter waving his wand in a series of complicated arcs. Harry could not help noticing that he was walking rather slowly. After giving his wand a final flicking and making some sort of crossbow, he turned to Harry and began muttering under his breath. Harry drew back slightly, not sure what to expect. Snape merely gave his wand a quick flick however, creating an arc of colors around his torso that dissipated as quickly as they had come. He pocketed his wand, turned on his heel and left through the same entrance he had come through, leaving Harry feeling slightly befuddled.

Unwittingly, and- entirely against Harry's judgment- the willpower in his limbs failed slightly in his effort to remain upright, causing him to fall back once more. He was furious that Snape had taken his wand. The thought of being in Snape's house made his blood boil, creating a murderous rush of adrenaline that threatened his comfortable position. However his energy stores after the night seemed to have been brutally snatched from him, leaving him feeling strangely numb. He lay there for a moment immobile, trying not to think, or move, or feel . . .

After a few minutes Harry vaguely registered the bookshelf in front of him turning. He heard a soft swishing noise nearby. A moment later a vial of some sort was thrust into his hand.

"Drink this, Potter," Snape said roughly. Harry grasped the vial in his hands and looked down at it. The potion was a slightly murky, darker pigment but did not look quite as foul as what Snape had given him two days ago. Still slightly suspicious, he brought the vial to his lips. For the first time he noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. Trying not to think about it, he quickly downed the potion.

Upon finishing the vial, a movement upon his bodice caused him to jerk backward slightly. He felt the odd sensation of something being slipped out of one of his pockets, then felt a whoosh as an unidentifiable shadow teased the corners of his vision. Harry struggled to keep his eyes upon it as the object finally slowed and fell neatly into Snape's outstretched hand, its true form immediately becoming recognizable as the portkey which he had used a few hours ago. Snape began muttering under his breath, waving his wand in now precise circles around the Cerebellum. The orb spun once, twice, then quieted. He slipped the orb into his pocket, apparently satisfied.

"Er- sir?" asked Harry. The shaking in his hands had stilled and he felt some measure of strength return to him. "Why did you enchant the Cerebellum to take me here?" Snape stared down at him over his hooked nose. His cold black eyes were unfathomable. "As you have undoubtedly figured out by now Potter, the Dark Lord is exceedingly furious by your escape," he said, speaking slowly. Harry nodded quickly, his heart beating a bit faster than normal. "The advent of Lovegood, Weasely, and Granger the other day whom you led into the school- endangering all of their lives in the effort I might add- " He paused for a moment, smirking. Harry felt fury rise within him, but desperation for answers and unusual fatigue coursing through him forced him to remain quiet. "-ending in their eventual escape only added to the Dark Lord's ire. An appropriate location for you-" Snape's mouth twisted over the word as though it he had swallowed flesh-eating slug repellent- "was in order." He looked at Harry as though he were a particularly disgusting potion experiment that had gone wrong, his face portraying his obvious disgust at having Harry in his house. For a moment, a strange bow shot him away from reality and Harry felt some bizarre sense of satisfaction come over him. He shook his head to himself. "What about Ron and Hermi- er- my friends?"

"They too are being held at quarters which are appropriate," Snape said shortly, in a tone which suggested that their welfare was of little difference to him. Harry stared up into his pallid face and found himself wryly hoping that his friends had fared better than he had. "Why did you think this was a safe location for me sir?" He asked, slightly sarcastically.

"Manners, Potter," Snape said softly, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Rest assured that this arrangement bears no link with a fervent desire for your company, odd as that may seem." Harry was about to retort, but unfortunately, his stomach chose that moment to voice its discontent. Snape's lower lip curled. Harry gritted his teeth as he felt his cheeks burn.

"Although your obviously overlarge Gryffindor nose thrives on information, I think- ah- other needs are in order," Snape said smoothly. Harry simply glared at him, feeling suddenly exhausted. Snape turned swiftly. As he left the room, he again noticed the limp that he seemed to be trying to hide. At that moment a thought struck him. Perhaps Snape was hit with a curse by Voldemort, he thought frantically. Had he been discovered? If that was the case there would have been no need for him to keep you here, a voice which bore a suspicious resemblance to Hermione's contradicted. Harry felt slightly calmed by this notion. Although he did not trust Snape, there was no doubt that he would not want him there any longer than was necessary.

As Harry watched Snape's black robes whip out of the room, the weariness which had been threatening him chose that moment to hit him in full measure. He sat back down unintentionally. He took a moment to take a mental stock of his injuries. Although the pounding in his head still lingered slightly, he realized that, to his surprise, although his entire body was sore, the effects from the Cruciatus curse were less painful than they might have been. The potion had obviously lessened the aftereffects of it, but the curse itself should have been powerful enough to withstand some of the potion's healing benefits, at least from what Harry remembered. But then, had the curse itself been all that powerful? He was suddenly doubtful. It had certainly been extremely painful, but if he was completely honest with himself, when Voldemort had struck him with the curse at the end of the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year the pain had probably been more agonizing. He frowned inwardly. The relieving powers of the potions Snape had given him wasn't what puzzled him, it was rather the fact that he had been given the potions in the first place. Unaware of his actions, he sank further down onto the hard floor, his eyelids starting to droop. His hunger forgotten, Harry soon fell into a doze. However it didn't last long, for upon the moment the turning of the bookshelf announced Snape's return. Unwilling to be caught off his guard, he forced himself into a sitting position.

"Though you are doubtless waiting for your dinner to come sweeping to you on a golden platter, I have more important things to do with my time than nurse your already overlarge head Potter," Snape sneered. As he left the room, Harry pondered the idea of skipping dinner altogether. Unfortunately, instinct told him that this was not such a great idea, annoyingly reminding him of the long drawn-out months that had tormented them with a scarcity of food-intake. Reluctantly therefore, he got up a minute later and followed Snape through the passage.

As Harry came through the other side of the dark tunnel by the courtesy of what felt like another shelf if the feel of the ledges were correct, the presentation of the room immediately took a hold of his senses. However why this should be puzzled him slightly, for there was nothing about the room which seemed particularly interesting. It was framed by rather tall cabinets portraying a shabbiness which made no bother to hide either a substantial age or evidence of a history of cruel abuse, which was broken at the right hand wall to allow room for an equally shabby counter that supported a small sink. A circular wood table sat in half shadows further into the room's left side, half-hidden behind the end of the line of shelves facing him, as though it had been rather hastily pushed aside in a make-shift effort of proper arrangement in the shoddy room. Harry frowned. Something about the table was niggling at him, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

Snape's back was turned to him as though he chose not to acknowledge Harry's presence. Eyeing him a bit apprehensively, Harry walked over to the table and sat down. Ironically enough, he was seated next to the only window he had seen in the house according to his determination of it up to date. The mesmerizing effect of the rain pattering against the pane played cruelly upon his current drowsiness. Struggling against its tantalizing effects, he turned away from the window.

At the cabinet singled out from the its vast family in which Snape had been doing something obscure, he had now stilled in the decided form of a shadowy black figure which sharply made its presence plain through the gloom. Reminded of the Death Eater's particular choice of arrival in the forest hours before, Harry involuntarily shivered. With a slow, jerkily cut movement, Snape turned toward him. As Harry looked into the black eyes that seemed nearly to float through the swirling demonic shadows, he felt unnerved. Snape was moving closer to him, his gimp leg thumping roughly against the worn linoleum. When he was close enough so that his face straddled the threshold of the light's shaft, Harry could see him clearly. His face was illuminated as though by a demonic beast, his jaw rigid, his pale forehead beaded with drops of sweat. A horrible, and incomprehensible feeling of dread pooled in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"You are not going to like what I am about to do Potter," Snape said, speaking rapidly, "But I need your full, and, absolutely utmost, cooperation."

**(A/N:) A big thanks and many imaginary hugs to those of you who reviewed my last chapter, and my apologies for not being able to post them on this page due to the length of time it has taken me to update. However, be aware that I will most certainly begin to post them in my newest editions out of my appreciation! But please, keep in mind that I cannot answer to those of you that don't log in!**


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